Mornings
by dna2000
Summary: Modern M/M. A series of one-shots of Matthew and Mary as a couple- all set in the morning! I realise the time of day is a fairly tenuous link, but I needed something to bind together all the random ideas for one-shots that I had. Likely to be 95% fluff, on average. Ch.5- Edith comes to stay, Pt 1.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: I had a random idea to do this series of one-shots…I'm not sure if they'll be in chronological order or not (I'm planning on doing some when they're married, with kids etc.), but it shouldn't matter if they're not. Enjoy!_

…

Mary stirred under the covers. Poking her arm out from the quilt, she fumbled around on her bedside table for her phone and switched the alarm off with an aggravated sigh. How was it already 7am? Her eyes battled with her head, refusing to open and acknowledge the sunlight streaming through the slit in the curtains. She brought a hand up to rub her eyes, coaxing them open. She sat up slightly, her brow creased with confusion, when she noticed that her hand was covered with a black smudge. _Crap. Forgot to remove my make-up_.

She felt the body on her left turn to face her. _At least __he__ makes mornings bearable_, she thought with a smile, turning to receive her morning kiss.

"Mary!" Matthew called, directing his voice towards the bedroom door. "Come in here quickly- there's a racoon in our bed!"

"Piss off." Mary kicked his shin as he laughed heartily at his own joke. So much for a romantic wake-up call. "You should've reminded me to take my make-up off." She said huffily, self-consciously wiping her face with a tissue (this would have to do until she could be bothered to go to the bathroom).

"Should I have?"

"Well you seemed to remember to take everything else off of me." Mary remarked as she lifted the covers and noticed her very naked body.

"It's fun taking everything else off of you." Matthew said with a smirk, trapping her underneath his arm so she couldn't leave the bed. "I'm not sure I'd find it as arousing to watch you remove mascara with a make-up wipe." He teased.

Mary rolled her eyes at him, but she was smiling on the inside. She wasn't a morning person- she never had been. Waking up was by far her least favourite part of the day. But since she and Matthew had moved in together, she found it infinitely easier- even enjoyable- thanks to their break-of-dawn banter and the inevitable ribbing which accompanied it. The fact that Matthew was usually fairly randy in the mornings also helped motivate her to leave slumber behind.

"I definitely drank too much last night." Mary said, rubbing her forehead to ease the pain which was throbbing through her head.

"So did I." Matthew laughed lightly, reached over to soothingly massage her temples.

Mary let her head fall back to the pillow as she enjoyed the tingling sensation that Matthew's fingers created. "How come you never seem to be as hungover as I am?" She pouted.

"Because I'm a much more careful drinker than you are. I stick to one drink, maximum two. Whereas you're all over the place! How many different kinds of alcohol did you have last night?"

"I don't remember." Mary replied automatically, having heard this mini-lecture from her boyfriend several times before. She grew worried, however, when she realised that she actually didn't remember what she'd had to drink. At all. The night was a big, blank memory.

"Well, I do." Matthew said. Mary would have been irritated at his naturally condescending tone, but his fingers had moved up to rub slow circles on her scalp, and it felt far too good to interrupt with an argument. "Let's see- you started off with champagne, as we all did, then you had wine with dinner- red, white _and_ rose, I might add- then you tried some of my beer, then you did vodka shots with Alison, then I think you had a G&T, before finally ending the night with some port." Matthew raised his eyebrows at her in a matronly, 'does-that-sound-sensible?' fashion.

"Alright, fine." Mary conceded wearily. He had a point- she should stop drinking like a seventeen year old who'd been let loose on their father's alcohol cabinet. Plus, she wasn't getting any younger, and these hangovers were becoming increasingly pronounced. "Although I don't think my head would ache this badly if I'd been able to sleep more." She argued, still not willing to let Matthew triumph in his maturity over her. "Why would someone have an engagement party on a _Wednesday _night?"

"The restaurant was cheaper to hire out on a weekday." Matthew replied, ceasing his massage in favour of playing with her hair, now that he could see she was awake enough to converse with him more fully. "And anyway, what about when we went out for my birthday, hmm? You had plenty of sleep the next morning- you woke up while I was having my lunch, if I remember correctly- yet you were still hungover."

"OK, OK, I get it." Mary began to roll herself out of bed slowly, wary of the fact that the room had started to spin. "But your little list was wrong." She pointed out to him.

"Was it?" Matthew had been keeping an eye on her all night to make sure she didn't reach the point of no return (and because she'd been wearing a rather fetching dress), so he was fairly sure he hadn't made a mistake.

"Yes- I also had a shot of baileys with my dessert." She said smugly, prompting a chuckle from her boyfriend.

"Of course, how did I forget?" Matthew said drily. "That renders my entire argument invalid."

"By the way…" Mary began cautiously, realising again that both of them were stark naked. "I don't mean to offend you, but- did we do anything last night? I genuinely don't recall. But I suppose the state of our undress suggests that we did…" She blushed. Being with Matthew was always memorable, however frequently it happened, so forgetting it must have meant that she really had been quite drunk.

"I think we started to…" Matthew said sheepishly. "But we both passed out in the middle of it."

"Oh. Oops." Mary flushed with embarrassment.

"_Or_ maybe we decided to postpone it until this morning, when we're both sober?" Matthew asked hopefully, feeling blood rush to certain parts of his body now that Mary was stood up at the end of the bed without a stitch of clothing on her.

Mary raised an eyebrow at him. "Nice try. But I think you're forgetting that we both have to leave for work in less than an hour." She threw a cushion at him and walked into the bathroom to have a shower.

"Is that all the time we have?" Matthew called after her. "Well, we'd better be efficient, then!" He grinned, running into the bathroom behind her.

…

_A/N: was that fluffy enough for you? Let me know if you have any ideas/prompts for other one-shots, and I'll try and work them in!_


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: so, I sat down to write this last night, but then I saw OrangeShipper's wonderful one-shot! I figured, although they're both about parting, they take place in different circumstances (and different eras) so I went ahead and wrote it anyway _

…

"At least it didn't snow in the end. These forecasters never get it right, do they?" Matthew remarked, lugging the last of the suitcases into the hallway. He'd looked out of the window that morning expecting to see the road illuminated by a thick covering of snow on the ground- thankfully, it was pitch black outside (it being 6am on a December's day).

Knowing how much Mary liked to complain about the inaccuracy of weather reports at any given opportunity, he was surprised to receive no response. He looked up to where she was, perched on the arm-rest of their sofa, a melancholy look on her face as she glanced over all the luggage before her.

Matthew looked at her sympathetically, though she didn't realise it. He'd noticed her growing increasingly apprehensive about this trip, even going so far as to change the subject whenever he brought it up. Since word had spread that there might be heavy snowfall, and subsequent travel chaos, she had been incessantly checking the forecast; but Matthew suspected that she wasn't worried about the prospect of her flight being delayed- rather, she was praying that it would be.

"Hmm?" She hummed absent-mindedly, realising that he was staring at her and that he'd just asked her something.

"Are you OK?" Matthew walked over to her, gently tilting her chin up with an index finger. She'd initially been so excited about this trip- _thrilled_. He wondered what had changed to make her so dismal about it now.

Mary sighed resignedly. "I don't want to go." She admitted softly, her eyes casting down towards the floor. She'd been afraid of saying it up until now, for she felt it would make her sound pathetic; she was a grown woman, being given an incredible opportunity in a job that she loved. She should be grabbing the bull by the horns and relishing it!

She'd been working for an international fashion magazine for the last three years, and had risen through the ranks with impressive speed. Continuing its rapid expansion, the magazine had just opened up an office in Mumbai, to track the latest trends in saris and the like. Being one of their brightest and most experienced employees, Mary had been asked to travel to the new office and assist them in their first couple of months- helping co-ordinate teams, overseeing the training of new recruits, influencing strategy and marketing etc; in short, she'd be running the joint. Well, she hadn't so much been 'asked' to go to India as she had been 'chosen'- her acceptance was presumed. And rightly so- it was a once-in-a-lifetime, career-changing opportunity, and you'd have to be a damn fool to turn it down! But these last few days, her enthusiasm for the project had started to wane. At first she put it solely down to nerves at being in a new country, but she now understood what was causing her anxiety…

"Yes, darling, I can see that." Matthew smiled fondly, sitting on the sofa and pulling her next to him. Sometimes she forgot how well he could read her. "I couldn't get you to shut up about Mumbai a few weeks ago and now it's a struggle to find out anything about it." He chuckled. "What's troubling you?" He asked seriously, his eyes concerned.

"I…" Mary hesitated, afraid of sounding silly. _There's no time to be shy_, she told herself. _You need to be at the airport in an hour_! "I don't want to be apart from you." She mumbled, her eyes fixed on her lap.

Matthew's mouth parted in surprise as his heart melted a little. He certainly hadn't anticipated _that_ to be the reason for her despondency. Mary was never soft or sentimental about these things. Between the two of them, it was always him who found any distance between them difficult to cope with. Even when they parted to go to work every morning, it was always Matthew who leaned in for one last kiss to last him until the evening. He'd once had to spend the weekend away for a friend's stag party and he'd found himself calling her every few hours (much to his friends' chagrin), just to hear her voice. She, on the other hand, had rather been enjoying having the flat to herself.

"Mary," he said tenderly, tilting her chin up again so he could look into her eyes. "Darling, it's only a few weeks!"

"It's _nine_ weeks, Matthew!" Mary protested. "In our two years together, we've never been apart for more than a weekend. And even then, the furthest we've been apart is a few hundred miles. I'll be completely on the other side of the world! About ten time-zones away!"

"It won't feel like it, though, I promise." Matthew assured her, seeing that this distance issue was clearly distressing her. "We'll talk everyday, we'll skype- the time difference won't be a problem, I'll stay up as late as I need to…there'll hardly be any change at all. You'll probably get sick of me, in fact." He joked lightly, hoping to alleviate her mood.

"Don't say that." Mary said seriously, reaching a hand up to touch his cheek lovingly. "I'd never get sick of you." It suddenly hit her that this morning would be the last time she'd be able to touch him until February next year. That sounded impossibly far ahead.

She'd have to make do with the telephone, which never conveyed the full beauty of his voice, and shaky webcam connections, which never portrayed the full beauty of his face. This was their first Christmas living together, and she wouldn't even be here to enjoy it with him. She wouldn't be able to see the look on his face when he opened her gift (which she'd carefully hidden in his drawer, unbeknownst to him) and she wouldn't be able to show him how much she appreciated whatever gift he got her. She'd have to ring in the New Year on her own, unable to receive a kiss from the man she loved.

"The time will fly by, I'm telling you." Matthew promised her softly, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles as he squeezed her hand reassuringly. It touched him that she found the prospect of nine weeks' separation unbearable- ever since she'd informed him of the trip, he'd been worrying about how to deal with her absence for that long. He was ecstatic for her, of course; she'd worked tirelessly in her job and he knew that she was destined for great things in the industry. He was immensely proud of her achievements, and would gladly brag to anyone who happened to be passing by him about how she'd been the only one chosen to go to Mumbai (she had another employee flying out with her, but they were merely acting as her assistant, so they obviously didn't count). But after spending eleven months waking up with her every morning, watching her get ready for work, occasionally meeting her for lunch (if either of them were able to take a lunch-break), and spending their evenings together before falling asleep in each other's arms, he wasn't sure he'd know what to do with himself when she left. He knew he'd feel like half a person, and he wasn't looking forward to it. Part of him wanted to say 'I agree, this India thing _is_ a stupid idea, you should stay here with me', but he knew she'd immensely regret not going, possibly for the rest of her life. And he didn't want to have any part to play whatsoever in any regret of hers.

"Will it? I'll be in a foreign place, I won't know anyone- aside from Emily, but we're not exactly friends- I'll have a tonne of responsibility that I've never had before. And you won't be there." Mary had a sinking feeling that these next nine weeks were going to drag by incredibly slowly, countering against her willingness for them to end.

"It probably will be quite daunting for the first few days." Matthew agreed, "But then I guarantee you'll be so engrossed in it all that you won't even miss home! It'll be a brand new culture, everyone in the new office will be eager to learn and you'll get to pass on all your knowledge and implement all the ideas that the London office weren't able to."

"And the bit about you?" Mary asked softly. "That'll be the hardest part."

"Darling, so many couples spend even longer periods of time apart. Just think of Alice and Michael." Matthew reminded her. A lot of Matthew's friends from school had gone on to join the armed forces, so he knew of several couples who were separated, not only having to deal with the distance for indeterminate periods of time, but also having to deal with the prospect of one of them returning injured, or worse.

"I know, there are always lots of people in worse situations, but that doesn't make me feel better. It doesn't make it any less difficult for _us_." Mary explained. Looking into his beautiful blue eyes only made her even less willing to leave. "Sometimes I wish I didn't love you so much." She complained quietly, stroking his fingers with hers in her lap.

"Well, I'm glad that you do love me this much, so you'd better not try and stop." Matthew teased, leaning forward to kiss her cheek. "So, let me get this straight- you're sad about going to India because you have a boyfriend at home who you love very much and don't want to leave?" He clarified in simple terms.

Mary nodded. Hearing him say the words out loud, she realised she must sound like a teenage girl who's considering throwing away her chances of going to a good university because her boyfriend's staying in their home town. But this was different- she and Matthew had become intrinsically linked to each other. Leaving him behind would be like leaving a part of herself behind, and trying to survive for nine weeks in a foreign land without it, when she'd need it most.

"Why don't you think about it the other way? Imagine if you had to go away for nine weeks on a massive work project, without a boyfriend at home who was ready and waiting to hear all about your days?" He saw her expression soften, pondering this new perspective, so he continued. "Whenever there's anything you want to complain about, or whenever you see some amazing new sight that you want to tell someone about, or whenever you've done something brilliant at work that you want to share – you can. Just call me, it doesn't matter what time. And it's not only me- you have your parents, Sybil, and – to a lesser extent – Edith." He noticed the corner of Mary's mouth turn up slightly. "Imagine if you had to go away and you had nobody here to support you- surely that would be worse?" He reasoned.

"I suppose." Mary smiled fondly at him- his ability to lift her out of any bad mood was astonishing. "You're right."

"And if there's anything, _anything_, wrong, or you need someone there with you for whatever reason, call me and I'll fly out immediately. I mean it." Matthew said seriously.

Mary could see from his eyes that he meant what he said, and she suddenly felt a great weight ease off her shoulders. She could do this. With him supporting her as wonderfully as he did, it would be easy. "OK." She nodded.

"Is there anything else?" Matthew asked caringly. He didn't want her to go away feeling miserable. However glum_ he_ felt about her leaving, _she_ should feel excited and happy.

"No, I think you got everything." Mary smiled, encircling his neck with her arms. "Thank you." She whispered, looking into his eyes.

"No problem." Matthew whispered back, closing his eyes as he saw Mary tilt her head. She brought her lips to his for a slow, loving kiss. Matthew pulled her closer, wanting to savour her as much as possible, knowing this would probably be their last proper kiss for over two months. His nose brushed her cheek, and it felt wet. Gently pulling away, he opened his eyes to see tears run down Mary's face. "Darling! Mary, what is it?" He'd thought everything was OK! He quickly brushed the tears away with the pad of his thumb.

"Nothing, really." Mary laughed breathily through her tears. "I'm just feeling a bit emotional. It's unlike me, I know." She chuckled. "I'm really alright, though. Thanks to you." She assured him, smiling appreciately.

"Are you sure?" Matthew wasn't completely convinced.

"One hundred per cent." Mary said resolutely, reaching up to physically un-crease his brow, which was deeply furrowed with concern. "Don't worry about me." She laughed as Matthew grabbed her hands away from his forehead and placed little kisses on them both.

A car-horn sounded from outside. "Taxi's here." Matthew said. "Are you ready?"

"Yeah." Mary stood up and reached for her handbag, double-checking she had everything she needed. "All set." She confirmed.

"Do you want me to come with you?" Matthew asked. They'd both agreed that it would be best if Matthew didn't accompany Mary to the airport. They didn't want to have to say goodbye to each other in the cold, public environment of an airport. They wouldn't even be alone for most of the journey to the airport, as the taxi was going to stop on the way to pick up Mary's colleague.

"No, darling, it's fine-" Mary began.

"I can, you know. I'll let the office know, they'll understand. I'd only be a couple of hours late for work, anyway." Matthew interrupted her, knowing she wouldn't want to ask him to miss work for her.

"It's fine, Matthew, really." Mary said, leaning in to give him another kiss. It quickly deepened. Both of them poured all their emotions into it, and tried to store up the love received from the other, to get them through the coming weeks. Eventually, they broke apart. There wasn't much left to do or say. Neither of them wanted to say 'goodbye', as it had an air of finality about it that would be inappropriate and discomforting. Saying 'I love you' seemed futile and inadequate, given the kiss they'd just shared and the depth of their feelings.

"I'll take the bags out." Matthew said softly.

Mary watched as he carried each of her many bags outside to the taxi-driver, who helped load them into the boot. He returned to the flat a few minutes later, standing in front of her.

"You look good." He smiled, pulling her little black blazer more tightly around her. "Mumbai won't know what hit it."

Mary smiled adoringly at him, her eyes trying to take in all of his handsome features. They'd already been committed to memory, long ago, but she wanted to make sure. "I should probably go…" She said regretfully after a moment.

Matthew nodded in acknowledgement. "Call me when you get there. You can boast about how warm it is."

"I'll probably be calling you from Heathrow." Mary joked. She knew she wouldn't be able to last until she landed in Mumbai to speak to him.

"Good." Matthew smirked. He cupped her face with his hands and gave her one last, sweet kiss.

Without another word, Mary pulled her handbag over her shoulder and walked outside, Matthew trailing behind her. She greeted the taxi-driver as she slid into the back seat. Resisting the urge to open the car door and kiss her one final time, Matthew watched as the car began to move off. Mary turned in her seat to blow a little kiss to him, and he blew one back, noticing that her eyes were glassy.

He remained outside, in the cold December morning, until the car reached the end of the road and turned out of sight. He sighed and walked back into the flat, feeling like he wanted to go back to bed, just as the rest of the country was waking up.

…

_A/N: it's a bit of a bittersweet one-shot, I suppose, but hopefully you liked it! _


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: so this is probably where the one-shots fall out of chronological order. I was planning on doing a couple more of them pre-marriage/engaged, but this one wanted to be written first!_

…

Matthew trundled up the staircase, bleary-eyed, reaching out to clutch the banister with his free hand. The promise of a warm bed at the top of the staircase kept him going in the face of his dire lack of energy.

He opened the door quietly, unsure whether she had fallen asleep again, as had happened in the past. The room was illuminated only by the bedside clock, which, as Matthew noticed with a heavy heart, read 4.36am. He had to be up for work in just over two hours.

He heard some shuffling and rustling of sheets, and then winced as the room was lit up by both bedside lamps being turned on in quick succession. His eyes quickly grew accustomed to the light, much to his dismay. How was he supposed to sleep now?

"Here." Matthew held the plate out in front of Mary's face. "Do you really need _both_ lights on?" He huffed as she greedily snatched it from him.

"Well I want to be able to see my sandwich as I eat it, don't I?" Mary said drily, shifting to the side when Matthew got into bed next to her. "But if you'd like to have crumbs rain down over your face as you sleep, then by all means feel free to turn the lights off."

Matthew lay down on his back with a sigh and closed his eyes, only to open them again in frustration a couple of minutes later. If the disruption and the lights weren't enough, his attempts at getting a good night's sleep were further hampered by the unappetising smell emanating from the sandwich he'd just prepared.

"I think this needs less mustard, for future reference." Mary remarked after swallowing her bite.

"I'm sorry; I never know how much mustard to put in a salami, mustard and peanut butter sandwich." He murmured sarcastically. "I'm finding your changing palate increasingly difficult to understand, you know."

"How do you think I feel?" Mary snapped back, and Matthew instantly felt bad. As difficult as it was to be awoken while in the midst of a blissfully deep sleep to go downstairs to the cold kitchen and prepare a sandwich, he knew that what Mary had been going through these last few months was much tougher. Morning sickness, a change in body-shape and size, mood-swings and hormonal changes accompanied by inexplicable cravings at awkward times of the day would take their toll on anybody. But Mary had borne it all with a great amount of graciousness and patience- a surprising amount, in fact, given how intolerant she could be in her non-pregnant state. Inevitably, though, there were times when her patience barrier was broken, and her requests (or demands) grew more irrational.

"I'm sorry." He said, looking up at her as she put the small plate on the bedside table, one half of the sandwich still on it. "I'm always saying how much I want to help you and how you should ask me if there's ever anything you need. I shouldn't complain just because you listened to me." He took her hand, which rested next to his head, and kissed it apologetically.

"No, it's OK." Mary said softly. "It's probably unfair of me to make you suffer just because I'm hungry in the middle of the night. Especially when you have work in the morning." Mary's brow furrowed slightly as she looked down at her husband. He looked exhausted, the poor thing. "I promise I'll do more for myself from now on." She said resolutely.

"What? No, Mary." Matthew shook his head as he sat up to be level with her. "Darling, I don't want you to do more for yourself. I want you to do _less_! I'm just a bit grumpy now because I'm tired, but I assure you I'd be even grumpier if you didn't let me help you." He looked deep into her eyes as he spoke, wanting to make sure she believed him. He felt terribly guilty for making her feel like she'd asked for too much.

"But you have work all week, too. It's too much to deal with." Mary reasoned, gently running the back of her hand along his stubble.

"It's not too much." Matthew said firmly. "I feel like I'm not doing enough for you, if anything. I'm away from you all day- I can't help you move around or anything." He placed a hand on her rounded belly and rubbed tenderly. Although only 6 months pregnant, the fact that Mary was carrying twins made her rather uncomfortable, and that coupled with the fact that it was her first pregnancy led to her recent decision to stop going to work. Matthew was earning enough to support them quite comfortably, even with two babies on the way, and in any case she was still occasionally doing some work from home.

"Darling, I think your mind is a bit too imaginative." Mary laughed. "You're probably envisioning me struggling to walk across the room and open doors. It's really not that bad." She stroked his cheek soothingly to ease his worried face.

"But what if you fall, or…" Matthew began.

"Stop thinking something terrible will happen." Mary interrupted, rolling her eyes playfully. Her husband seemed to list worrying as one of his past-times. "I don't know why you suddenly think the universe is conspiring against me now that I'm pregnant. Besides, if there's ever any emergency, and you're not around, Victoria will be right over." Mary reminded him of their neighbour- she was a retired civil servant in her early 60s, but you wouldn't know it from her shocking displays of strength and agility; she'd lifted Mary off of her feet (and almost managed Matthew too) when they'd announced to her that they were expecting a baby. Her ears and eyes were constantly peeled open for any signs of danger or trouble for the young couple. She was as trusty as a Labrador, as speedy as a greyhound and as strong as a Rottweiler when she needed to be.

Matthew nodded, the crease in his brow untightening as he realised he probably was a bit over-concerned. Mary was constantly chastising him for being so uptight for a 29-year-old.

"I hope you don't let all these panicked thoughts disrupt your work." Mary raised a knowing eyebrow at him.

"Jason said the other day that he was anticipating the twins' birth more than I was, just because he wanted me to stop talking about the pregnancy." Matthew admitted with an embarrassed smile. At Mary's shake of her head, he added, "It's only because I can't help thinking about my favourite girl while I'm in the office." He leaned forward to kiss her cheek lovingly. "My favourite _people_." He corrected himself as he glanced down at her bump, before placing an affectionate little kiss on her nose.

Mary smiled widely as she wrapped one arm around his neck while the other rested in his chest, her hand stroking over his heart. She kissed his lips sweetly, several times. She sighed softly as she felt his arms wrap around her, his firm hands rubbing circles on her back. Even when she felt at her safest and most secure, he could somehow make her feel even more protected.

After a few moments of sleepy kisses, they broke apart. "Thank you for my sandwich." Mary whispered sincerely.

"You're very welcome." Matthew said with faux-seriousness. He kissed her one last time before moving to lie back down. "If only you'd managed to stay awake for my 'chicken/jam/cornflakes beauty last week. It was genius." He said proudly, through the thickness of his tired voice. "What a waste."

"Don't blame me, blame the babies." Mary defended herself with a smile. She had felt rather guilty the next morning when she saw the large sandwich sitting in their bin, all because she'd fallen asleep before Matthew could get the baguette to her. "They told me they wanted something to eat, but they changed their mind." She shrugged dismissively. "Besides, you could've eaten it yourself if you felt so bad about throwing it away."

Matthew summoned the energy to turn to her and give her a look of incredulity. "I think you're forgetting that I don't have the appetite of a madwoman." He teased, although his eyes looked increasingly red with sleep-deprivation.

"Go to sleep, Matthew." Mary urged quietly, running her fingers through his hair. It didn't matter so much that her sleep had been interrupted; she had the luxury of being able to nap during the day- Matthew did not.

"OK." Matthew turned on his side so that his head was level with the bump carrying his babies. "Goodnight again, sweethearts." Mary smiled down at the sight of him placing two adoring kisses on her belly- one for his son and one for his daughter.

"Do you mind if I keep the light on so I can finish eating?" Mary asked as she reached for her plate. She suspected that no amount of light could stand in the way of Matthew's sleep now, anyway.

"No, s'fine." Came the mumbled reply.

Mary sat in bed and quietly finished off her sandwich as Matthew lay down next to her with his eyes closed, his hand lightly resting on her stomach. It appeared that the babies, now fed, had fallen asleep at the same time as their father. She put the plate back down on the bedside table, careful not to make a sound.

She shimmied her way down the bed very slowly- partly because she didn't want to wake Matthew, and partly because most of her movements were slow these days. She gasped as she heard a voice come from the sleeping figure next to her.

"Do you want anything to drink?" Matthew asked drowsily, eyes still closed.

Mary's heart swelled with affection at his tenderness. "No, darling. Go to sleep." She whispered. She watched him for a moment until she was sure that he had, before settling down and drifting off into a deep sleep herself- a smile of utter contentment on her face.

…

_A/N: very fluffy, n'est-ce pas? Thoughts/prompts, please!_


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: not much to explain other than– this is engagement fluff! It obviously is out of sync with the last chapter (where they are married), but it shouldn't matter. Hope you enjoy!_

…

"Mary, will you please stop kissing me?" Matthew protested feebly, the smile on his face growing wider by the moment.

"No– I _want_ to kiss you." Mary said firmly, clambering on top of him to reach the other side of his neck so she could pepper it with kisses.

"Well _I_ want a lie-in." Matthew countered, his actions disproving his words as his arms wound around her body.

"You should have thought about that before you proposed to me last night." Mary retorted as her lips making their way towards his. She moved back slightly so that she could look at him; he was wide awake, despite his complaints, and smiling brightly.

Matthew enthusiastically returned the kiss which she planted on his lips, ecstatic that the proposal hadn't merely been some wonderful dream to be punctured by reality when he awoke– he was _really_ engaged to her! He was engaged to this beautiful, opinionated, adorably fussy, intelligent woman who made him so very happy. She squealed into his mouth as he quickly rolled them over so that she was underneath him, his arms wrapped around her tightly. When air became a necessity, they broke apart.

"This is our first full day as fiancé and fiancée." Mary told him, her eyes wide and gleaming. "Groom-to-be and bride-to-be." She said softly.

Matthew could do nothing but look down on her in wonder, the notion of their impending marriage only just sinking in. The idea of being married to Mary Crawley had first entered his mind many, many moons ago, before they'd even started dating. But at that time it was, of course, a mere fantasy, a hypothetical situation to be pondered briefly before being cast aside as a silly daydream. Over the last few months, however, that delusion had become increasingly realistic. Recently, all of Matthew's thoughts had been preoccupied with how to propose, when to propose, where to get the ring from…thoughts of what the proposal _meant _had gradually been displaced by all of the planning. Irrationally paranoid fears of rejection had prevented him from dwelling on their future if she said 'yes'. So it was only now that Matthew was able to properly reflect on what the ring on Mary's finger signified– and he loved it.

Mary slapped his arm playfully, jolting him out of his thoughts. "Why are you being so quiet? I hope you're not having second thoughts." She raised an eyebrow at him teasingly.

"I will _never_ have second thoughts about you." Matthew replied, the sweetness in his tone matched by the kiss he dropped on her lips. "I was only thinking that I haven't yet seen your new ring in daylight…"

"Oh, that's true!" Mary said happily, and the couple readjusted themselves so that Matthew was on his back, with Mary half-lying on top of him, her back resting against his chest.

She proudly stretched her left arm out in front of them, admiring the way the morning sunlight hit the stones. It truly was the most enchanting ring she'd ever seen. There was one sizeable diamond in the middle of the ring, cut so that it caught the light perfectly. It was eye-catching yet under-stated at the same time. The diamond was flanked by two blue topazes; Mary had once told Matthew that she wished she could take his eyes with her whenever they had to part– she'd always found everything she needed in his eyes, whether it was love, friendship, desire, or protection. On presenting her with the ring, Matthew had explained that that's what the topazes were for– so he'd always be with her, in some way– and it made Mary fall in love with the ring, and with him, even more.

"Did you ask anyone for help in designing it?" Mary asked curiously. Last night had, understandably, mostly been about celebrating the new stage in their relationship, but now she was eager to know more about how Matthew had planned the proposal.

"The topazes were my idea but I had a little focus group to figure out what size diamond I should get you." Matthew replied, his lips resting lightly on her temple as he watched the ring glisten against her pure skin.

Mary laughed. "Who was in this focus group?"

"Your mother, your grandmother and your sisters. Your father wisely exited the room before the commotion began." Matthew sighed at the memory– there had been a rather long, heated discussion amongst the women. "The general consensus was that I should get you something akin to the Kohinoor."

Mary laughed more. "They would say that, wouldn't they? Well, I'm glad you didn't listen to them– you know me better than they do, anyway." She turned her head to kiss his jaw before entwining the fingers of her left hand with his, ensuring her hand was on top so that she could still admire the ring's beauty.

…

Matthew rubbed his hands over his face as he woke up, not realising that he'd fallen asleep again. A quick glance at his phone told him it was 10.30am. He was alone in the bed, but could hear clattering coming from outside the bedroom. Searching the floor for his clothes, he made his way out of the room.

"Thanks for stealing my boxers." He said drily as he found Mary in the kitchen, and he pinged her waistband.

"You have plenty of other boxers." Mary pointed out. "And I like these ones." She looked down fondly at the blue and green checked boxers– the pair he'd worn when they'd spent their first night together.

"I like them too." Matthew said, moving to stand next to her to see what she was doing. "They're my lucky ones. Hence why I wore them last night– I needed all the luck I could get." He winked at her.

"You knew I wouldn't say no to you, silly boy." Mary tip-toed to kiss him softly before turning her attention back to the kitchen counter.

"What are you making?" Matthew asked, glancing over the array of utensils laid out on the table.

"I thought I'd make us some breakfast. Fried eggs, bacon, toast…"

"How very domestic of you." Matthew teased, not bothering to ask why she'd taken a whisk and a wok out of the cupboards. "By the way, I told your parents that we'd join them for dinner tonight. My mother will be there too." He said, stroking her upper arm affectionately.

Mary nodded in acknowledgement. It was good of her parents to have given them last night on their own; she knew of some couples who'd been forced to bear the presence of their parents immediately after the proposal (and in some cases, during the proposal), when all they'd wanted to do was go upstairs and…_celebrate_. "They'll probably want to start making plans for how they want to decorate Downton." She chuckled lightly, pouring some oil into the frying pan.

Matthew paused between chewing bits of bread and raised an eyebrow at her. "I'm sorry?"

Mary turned to him. "You know– Downton. For the wedding." She clarified, referring to Downton Manor, the large country house which had been in her family for generations. "It's where all brides in the family get married."

"And what about the grooms?" Matthew queried.

"The grooms are usually there too." Mary replied mischievously, not noticing that Matthew hadn't been joking. She was in some sort of impenetrable cloud of bliss that morning; for once, she was enthusiastic about making breakfast, now that she had a beautiful new accessory to look at and wedding plans to consider as she did so.

"What if my mother wants me to get married in Manchester?" Matthew tested. He'd always suspected that his mother would want to have her input into wedding preparations; it had even been hard work trying to keep her nose out of his proposal! While he didn't want to let Isobel dictate anything, she was his closest family member and he was her only child, so he wanted to incorporate her wishes into the wedding wherever possible. But he'd never do so without consulting Mary first.

"Oh, gosh! I just remembered that we already have someone to make the cake for us!" Mary exclaimed, having been reminded of the fact as she cracked eggs. "Mum's good friend does the most beautiful cakes, and Mum bagsied her to do my, Edith's and Sybil's wedding cakes years ago." She laughed. "I thought she was being ridiculous at the time, but I'm quite glad now. That's another thing we won't have to worry about!"

Matthew's question genuinely hadn't registered in Mary's brain– such was her excitement– but Matthew felt she was brushing over him. "Great, well just let me know where to turn up and I'll see you at the altar." He said with barely contained indignation.

Mary watched with her mouth open as he turned and strode out of the room, out of sight, with only his heavy footsteps on the staircase indicating where he was going. She remained standing, her eyes still on the doorway, wondering what had happened. Her thoughts were rudely interrupted, however, by the shrill beeping of smoke alarm in the hallway– apparently the toast was burning.

…

Some time later, Matthew heard a quiet knock on the door of his study; it was so soft, and so unsure, that he knew Mary must have realised why he was angry. "Come in."

The door opened slowly and Mary peered around it, a small smile on her face. "Breakfast is ready." She said tentatively, holding up a tray. On it were two plates, both piled high with toast, eggs, bacon and beans, as well as two neatly-folded napkins and a small flower from the garden for decoration.

Matthew hardly glanced at it before declaring, "I'm not very hungry."

Mary's heart sank. She quietly padded into the room, set the tray down on the little coffee table and perched herself on his desk. "I'm sorry." She offered softly.

"For what?" Matthew asked, wanting to make sure she understood exactly why he was upset.

"For not listening to you." Mary clarified. "I've been in a bit of a haze this morning, lost in my thoughts. I should have paid more attention to what you were saying."

For someone who was usually so astute, she could be rather obtuse sometimes. "Mary, I'm not angry because you were in your own world or day-dreaming, or whatever. I'm angry because I feel like this whole wedding's already been planned, and will continue to be planned, without me!"

"What? Why would you think that?" Mary asked in surprise.

"Because the venue and the cake were already arranged by your family before I'd even met you!" Matthew exclaimed, rather frustrated.

"Oh…" Realisation dawned on Mary. "But darling, weddings are usually planned by the bride's family, aren't they?" She reasoned.

"I know that's what _usually _happens," Matthew began, "but I want _us_ to do the planning, together. At least the majority of it."

Mary smiled at him amusedly. "Between your mother, my mother and my grandmother, do you think we'd even get a word in?" She started to laugh.

Matthew couldn't help but laugh at the idea either. If he and Mary ever had a daughter together, she would almost certainly be one hell of a fighter, with that gene pool. "I suppose…I just worried that my opinion wouldn't matter. That you might go along with whatever your family wanted without consulting me." He explained, taking some comfort in the fact that Mary shook her head apologetically as he spoke.

"That's not true at all." She said reassuringly, moving to sit on his lap. "Your opinion matters a great deal." She stroked her palm across his forehead and down his cheek. "I've been buzzing non-stop since last night, all these thoughts just tumbled out of my head and I didn't stop to think how it was coming across." Matthew's face told her that he still wasn't completely convinced that he'd have a say in the wedding planning. She could understand why, though. A thought suddenly occurred to her. "Come on." She stood up and took his hand in hers, pulling him behind her as she walked out of the room.

Matthew followed bemusedly as she led him to the wardrobe in their bedroom. He watched her kneel down and retrieve a shoe-box from the depths of her shoe collection. She looked up at him and patted the floor next to her, so he knelt down too, wondering if she was still in her post-proposal haze and had gone off on a tangent again.

"This is pretty embarrassing." Mary issued a small disclaimer before opening the shoe-box. "But I can tell that you're still worried about how much I value your opinion, and desperate times call for desperate measures." She looked down to the box and removed the lid. Inside was a stack of magazines.

Matthew read the title of the top one. "'Modern Bride'?" He read, puzzled.

"A little while after we moved in together, I impulsively bought a couple of wedding magazines." Mary confessed, avoiding eye contact. "It wasn't because I expected you to propose, or anything, but I was just…curious to see what was in them. Anyway, when I started flicking through them, I began to get visions of us getting married and I started making little notes, just in case that day ever came for us…" She trailed off, deciding to just show him what she meant.

Matthew took the magazine which she offered to him and began leafing through the pages. One page had a variety of wedding gowns on display, and he could see that Mary had circled a few. Various arrows pointed from the circles to the margins, where she'd scribbled annotations such as 'Matthew likes lace– but this is too much, maybe?' and 'Matthew likes hair up– couldn't do that with this.' Further searching through the magazine informed him that Mary had considered his thoughts when marking possible bouquets, bridesmaid's dresses and even the bridal carriage.

"Mary…" He said breathlessly, completely taken aback by what he was seeing. First of all, he couldn't believe that Mary had been so sentimental and dreamy as to buy wedding magazines and carefully pore through them, making notes as she went along!

"I know, I know." Mary replied, covering her face with her hands in embarrassment. "It's really creepy and weird. It's the kind of thing the police find in a woman's house after she's gone on a killing spree."

"No!" Matthew exclaimed, reaching out to take her hand in his, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles affectionately as he continued to look through the magazines. "I just can't believe…why did you do this?"

"I don't know…" Mary shrugged shyly. "I suppose you're the only person who I could ever envisage myself marrying." She blushed as Matthew kissed her hand tenderly. "The reason I'm showing you this is because– well, we _are_ both going to have to make concessions to our respective families. I don't think there's any way to avoid that." She began, prompting a nod of agreement from Matthew. "But I wanted you to know that what you think _does_ make a difference to me. I know I've always been independent and tend to make decisions on my own, but with this– with _you_– I don't think I'd be happy making any decision unless you were there with me." She said sincerely.

Matthew leaned forward and placed a loving kiss on her lips. "Thank you." He rested his forehead against hers. "I'm so glad I'm marrying you." He whispered, unable to stop the grin spreading across his face as he spoke the words.

"I'm glad too." Mary smiled back.

Matthew sat up straight again, surveying the pile of magazines before him. "Wow, you really went to town, didn't you?" He teased. "Is there another box full of cut-out pictures of grooms with my head stuck on?"

"Shut up." Mary whacked his arm with a magazine as he laughed. "Shall we go and have breakfast?" She suggested a moment later, remembering the forgotten tray in the study.

"Good idea, I'm starving." Matthew replied, helping her to her feet. "Although it's probably more lunch-time now, isn't it?" He glanced at the clock, just as it struck noon.

…

_A/N: hope you liked it! Thanks for reading xx_


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: I've been playing around with this story for a while now, but last week's episode of Downton persuaded me to keep going with it. I wanted to explore the relationship between Mary and Edith a bit. Edith doesn't actually appear in this, but I had to break up the story into a couple of chapters, otherwise it would be far too long! So this one focuses on Matthew, Mary and their children._

_Hope you enjoy it!_

…

"Rosie, no!" Mary said firmly, gently batting away the little hand that had sneakily tried to steal some of the icing which Mary was carefully smoothing over her cake.

"What did you do now, Rosie?" Matthew asked affectionately as he walked into the kitchen, scooping his three-year-old daughter up into his arms and brushing away her dark brown fringe.

"She keeps trying to eat the icing, even though I've already told her not to. It's not good to eat so much sugar." Mary explained, looking at the little girl sternly.

"So you thought you'd teach her a lesson by tapping her hand with a spatula covered in icing?" Matthew asked drily as Rosie tried to fit her entire fist into her small mouth, hoping to consume as much of the sugary goodness as possible in one go.

Mary merely sighed in frustration as she continued spooning and then smoothing the vanilla icing over the large strawberry sponge cake. Stress was written all over her face, and she repeatedly blew the tendrils of hair, which had escaped from her loose bun, away with irritation.

Deciding it was probably best to leave her alone for a while, Matthew bounced his daughter in his arms playfully as he looked around for her brother. "Benny boy? Where are you?" He peered around the other side of the island, to find his son sat on the floor, peacefully playing with his toy trucks. Ben was the more docile, well-behaved twin– his sister was the one who needed to be watched at all times, but luckily for her, she was blessed with a sweetness and affectionate nature which made her naughtiness much easier to put up with. "Have you both had breakfast?" Matthew asked as he squatted down to play with Ben, Rosie still cradled in his other arm.

"Yes, I finished _all_ of my cereal!" Ben replied, his dimples magnified by his earnest smile.

"I'm still hungry." Rosie complained, angling her head towards her mother to make sure she heard.

"You're not getting any cake, young lady." Mary replied without hesitation. She'd always seen her own shrewdness as a virtue, but she was now beginning to realise how difficult things must have been for her mother when she was a child.

Matthew chuckled and set his daughter down on the floor. "You two play together." He said softly, before moving to join his wife as she carefully placed strawberries on top of the icing. "That's turned out well." He said admiringly, kissing her on the cheek. While she still struggled with roast dinners and more complicated meals, Mary had found her forte in cakes and desserts over the last few years.

"Thanks. I just hope it stays fresh for tomorrow." Mary replied. Saturday was her parents' 35th wedding anniversary, and to celebrate, the entire family were visiting Mary and Matthew's house for the weekend. Thankfully, most of the family were arriving on the Saturday afternoon and leaving straight after breakfast on Sunday– all with the exception of one…

"I still don't see why you had to wake up so early to bake this; you could've made it this evening, after Edith arrives." Matthew said as he fetched his folders for work.

"And give her an opportunity to tell everyone how disorganised I am? No thanks." Mary replied resolutely.

"She won't tell people you're disorganised just because you're baking a cake while she's here." Matthew reasoned.

"You obviously don't know Edith very well." Mary replied, recounting the time Edith had taken great pleasure in discussing all of the minor faults of Mary's wedding day to the family at breakfast the next morning.

"I know her well enough to realise that she's not a bad person."

"Why do you always stick up for her?" Mary huffed.

"Because you never give her the benefit of the doubt." Matthew explained. "And also because I like arguing with you." He whispered in her ear secretively and kissed her sweetly.

"Well I'm not so sure how much I enjoy arguments about Edith." Mary retorted, although her lips curved up in a smile at her husband's silliness. Just then, her phone beeped, alerting her to a message. "Ben, darling, could you get my phone for me, please?" She asked as she cautiously negotiated the cake onto a cake stand. She smiled fondly at her son as he padded over, needing to use both of his miniature hands to hold the phone. Her smile dissipated as she read the message. "Edith's got an early train. She'll be at the station in about an hour, she says."

Matthew winced– Mary had been fretting enough about this weekend as it was. Cora had asked her daughters if one of them would mind hosting the party, as her and Robert's house was currently undergoing extensive renovations. Sybil's recent accident ruled her out– it would be unfair to burden her with planning a party while sustaining a broken ankle– so it had fallen to either Edith or Mary to play hostess. Mary, as proud as ever, had taken on the responsibility solely to avoid giving Edith something to hang over her head. She wanted to prove that she was able to handle being a wife, mother of twins, part-time journalist and elegant party-thrower all at once. In reality, however, she was finding it all incredibly stressful. Now that Edith was arriving at 9.00am, instead of at 6pm as originally planned, Matthew was afraid that his wife would explode.

"_Why_?" Mary exclaimed, slamming the phone down on the kitchen counter and startling the two little ones. "Why would she arrive nine hours early? I didn't understand why she wanted to come tonight in the first place, when everyone else is arriving tomorrow. She's such a bloody nuisance." Mary sighed exasperatedly, ignoring Matthew's panicked looks towards the children to make sure they hadn't heard her curse word.

"It must be because Lucy's away." Matthew reasoned, remembering that Edith's flatmate was in the States for a few months. "She's probably just lonely, she-" Matthew stopped mid-sentence, in order to dodge the daggers being thrown from Mary's eyes. He walked over to her and wrapped his hand around the back of her neck, massaging soothingly to calm her down. "Look, I'll call in sick and stay home with you today. You have far too much to do." He suggested.

"You don't have to do that." Mary looked at him appreciatively, stroking a hand across his cheek.

"So you can handle preparing lunch, cooking dinner, doing more shopping for tomorrow _and_ taking the children to nursery, all on your own?" Matthew asked rhetorically, pointedly raising an eyebrow.

Mary narrowed her eyes at him, annoyed that he was making her admit (what she saw as) defeat. "Alright." She conceded reluctantly, and Matthew went to retrieve his phone to call the office.

"So shall I do lunch? You can drive the kids to nursery." Matthew suggested a few minutes later, once he'd changed out of his work clothes into his usual jeans and a t-shirt.

"Could you take them?" Mary asked, clearing the toys up from the kitchen floor. "That ghastly woman will be there dropping her grandkids off and I don't think I can handle her ear-bashing about the state of primary education today."

Matthew briefly considered pointing out that Mrs Evans wasn't as bad as Mary made her out to be, but decided not to antagonise his wife anymore this morning. "Of course. What time do they need to be there?"

"Oh- they're starting a bit later today, actually." Mary remembered, feeling guilty for waking her babies up unnecessarily early. "So you can leave in about thirty minutes." She and Matthew paused to chuckle at the little cries of delight from underneath the kitchen table, where the children were glad to hear that they had more time to play. "I'm sorry Rosie, I know you enjoy playing with your toys but I need you to quickly try on your dress for tomorrow." Mary said, walking over to where Rosie was stealing the building blocks of an oblivious Ben to make her tower bigger.

"Why?" Rosie whined as she was picked up, not noticing her mother roll her eyes at that question which was asked far too often by her and her brother.

"We had to get the dress let out because _someone_ has been eating too many cookies." Mary said accusingly, prodding the little girl's tummy affectionately. "We need to check that it fits you so you can look your prettiest tomorrow." Mary dangled the bait and Rosie grabbed it. She was rather vain for a three year-old.

"Do I need to try my clothes on?" Ben asked eagerly as he watched his mother and sister leave the room.

"No, you're all set, little man." Matthew smiled at the contrast between his children. "Shall we try making a bridge like we did yesterday?" He asked, settling himself down on the floor next to all the building blocks.

…

Twenty-seven minutes later, and Matthew was double-checking that his son's hands were clean; they'd decided to go into the garden to make their bridge and ended up using wet soil to hold some of the bricks together. Thankfully, Mary had been too pre-occupied with getting the house ready to notice, and Matthew tried to ensure that all evidence had been covered up.

"Rosie! Come here this instant!"

Two heads of blonde hair flopped simultaneously as father and son turned to look in the direction of Mary's voice. Rosie soon ran into the kitchen, escaping an infuriated Mary who followed quickly behind her.

"You need to be in the car, dressed for nursery, young lady!" Mary looked at the girl sternly, hands on hips. "Now, come with me so we can get you changed."

"No!" Rosie said boldly, before cowering under her mother's indignant gaze. She ran over to Matthew and grabbed onto his leg.

"Rosie, you know you don't speak to your mother, or anyone, that way." Matthew said firmly, although his hand naturally went to stroke the little head that rested against his thigh.

"Sorry." Rosie mumbled.

Matthew looked at his wife questioningly.

"She's decided that she likes the dress too much and won't change out of it." Mary sighed, glancing at the clock.

Suppressing a laugh at how sweet that was, Matthew looked down and explained to his daughter that it was very important to be on time for things, so she should go and change into her normal clothes.

"I want to wear this." Rosie demanded.

"You can't wear this dress to nursery." Matthew explained patiently. "Now go and change, please."

"No. It's too pretty." Rosie explained, still clutching onto Matthew's leg for safety as she saw Mary look increasingly annoyed.

"I don't like it." Ben declared matter-of-factly, after appraising his sister's attire.

"Ben, be nice." Matthew said, failing to hold back his outraged daughter as she began chasing Ben around the kitchen, determined to get him back for his unkind comment about her beautiful dress.

Matthew and Mary began protesting, calling for the children to stop their silliness at once before either of them got hurt. Their calls went unheeded, however, and Mary gasped as Rosie jumped up to try and pounce on her brother, her arm unintentionally sending an open bag of flour tumbling down from the kitchen counter and onto the floor.

The moment's silence which followed as the four of them stopped to assess the damage was punctured by a loud cry. Rosie's lovely pink lacy dress was now covered in white flour, likewise her hair, and she was not very happy about it.

Matthew immediately ran to his daughter's side to comfort her, leaving Mary stood open-mouthed, contemplating how to go about clearing up the monumental mess.

"Now do you see why you shouldn't run in the house?" Matthew scolded gently, grabbing a wet tea towel to dab at Rosie's hair. Thoughts of Edith and of cleaning the house temporarily evaporated as Mary saw that her daughter was in distress, and she sprang into action.

"Darling, I think we need to properly wash her hair, there's too much flour in it." Mary said to Matthew, running her fingers through the short brunette bob to shake out excess flour. "Can you take her to the bathroom? I'll call the nursery and tell them we'll be late."

"Sure. Come on, sweetie." Matthew encouraged, holding his arms out to a weepy Rosie who promptly let herself be carried, covering him in flour too.

Mary gave her daughter a kiss before turning to search for the slip of paper with the nursery's phone number on it. "Ben, I'll be in the living room for a minute." She called behind her. It had been a struggle to find a good nursery for the children, but eventually Matthew had used his talents to secure two places in one of the best nurseries in the country, thanks to a contact at his law firm. The twins had begun attending only three weeks ago, and Mary didn't want to make a bad impression by bringing them in late without a good excuse. Deciding on 'one of the twins felt poorly' as a reasonable alibi, Mary grabbed the slip of paper and hurried back to the kitchen where her phone was. She froze.

What had been a pile of plain flour on the kitchen floor was now infused with a strange brown substance, which looked suspiciously like soil. To confirm this, Mary followed the trail of small brown and white footsteps which led through the kitchen and out into the garden. Outside, Ben was delightedly slapping some sort of flour/soil mixture onto building blocks to weld them together. His entire forearms were covered in the mixture, and there was a streak of it across his face, where he'd presumably wiped his hand without thinking.

"Matthew!" Mary bellowed, loudly enough to be sure that her husband would hear her from their second floor bathroom. A minute later, Matthew rushed into the kitchen carrying Rosie, who was now much happier despite not being anywhere near clean.

"What is it?" Matthew asked, panicked. His eyes darted around for any signs of danger until they settled on the mess in the middle of the room. His expression turned from one of shock into one of guilt as Ben entered the kitchen through the garden door, greeting him with an enthusiastic grin.

"Look, Daddy! I made our bridge bigger!" Ben pointed outside, gesturing for his father to join him to view his triumph.

"'_Our_' bridge?" Mary spied Matthew accusatorily, shaking her head in resignation as he gulped uncomfortably.

"Well, the bricks weren't staying together and I didn't want to let him use glue, so I thought-"

"Oh I don't care about that!" Mary interrupted her husband's explanation. "How are we going to clean this disaster up?" Mary put her hands on her hips yet again, assessing the scene before her. Her thought-process was broken by a slapping sound accompanied by girlish giggles. She turned to her daughter, looking at her properly for the first time since she re-entered the room. "Matthew-" Mary began, her eyes widening. "What happened?" She reached forward to touch Rosie's hair, which was coated in something thick and gloopy. Rosie was having an enjoyable time clapping her hands around it.

"Erm…it seems that adding hot water to flour makes some sort of paste, or…batter, or something." Matthew said nervously, worried that Mary was about to reach breaking-point. He felt terrible; he'd stayed at home in order to help her and ease her stress, but instead he'd added to it!

Mary did nothing but let out a loud, defeated sigh, her pretty face frowning. Matthew set their daughter down and cupped Mary's face in his hands.

"I'm sorry." He said sincerely, his thumb stroking her soft cheek.

"It's not your fault." Mary shook her head and stepped into his embrace. Having his strong arms around her never failed to provide him with comfort. "Well, maybe the soil is your fault." She corrected herself, and Matthew chuckled into her hair. "Edith's going to arrive in about twenty minutes, and our house is in complete disarray. It's not even nine o'clock in the morning! She'll have a field day with this."

"Why don't I call my mother?" Matthew suggested helpfully. "She can help me clean the kids up, I'll take them to nursery and pick Edith up from the station on the way back, and in the meantime the two of you can tidy the kitchen." He said, his voice taking on that assertive tone which Mary loved so much. Despite her head-strong nature, she had her moments where she needed someone else to take control of a situation.

"Good idea." Mary assented, placing a grateful kiss on Matthew's lips as she removed herself from his arms. She'd initially been uneasy about having Isobel live a mere five minutes away from their house, but she'd come to really value her proximity. They'd become close friends- but more than that, Isobel seemed able to solve absolutely any kind of problem.

"By the time Edith gets here, everything will be fine." Matthew gave Mary's waist a reassuring squeeze. "Not that she'd mind even if the kitchen were a mess. She is aware that we have three year-old twins, you know." Matthew laughed as Mary glared at him again. He knew the two of them had never gotten along and had always presumed the worst of the other's motives and intentions. Yet, Matthew truly believed that deep down the sisters were more alike than they realised, and there was potential for them to be good friends.

Or, at least, he hoped. Otherwise, today was going to be a nightmare.

…

_A/N: let me know your thoughts! xx_


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